


Second Best

by orphan_account



Series: Second Best [1]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Porn, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Unrequited Love, Victim-blaming, Violence, possessive!Cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Cain, Deimos will always be the second best thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Best

Deimos huddled in close to Cain as soon as the lift doors closed, cheek brushing Cain's shoulder. Cain was still too sore and pissed after the reaming they'd just received from Encke to care much about what was going on around him, and so Deimos took advantage of Cain's distraction while he could.

He stared up at him, nervously rolling his lip between his teeth while he tried to gauge how hurt Cain was—he was scowling, probably in a lot of pain, and his face was bruised and bloody, left arm tucked close to his chest. Deimos wondered if it was broken.

"Shut the fuck up," Cain muttered without looking at him, and Deimos frowned. He hadn't said anything.

The lift shuddered to life and the overhead lights flickered. Deimos nudged closer to Cain in the darkness, the length of his arm pressed to Cain's warm side. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and taking in Cain's scent -- heady and overwhelming in the crowded lift, even surrounded by a half-dozen other sweaty fighters.

Deimos felt someone press into him from behind—hands, not Cain's, brushing his sides—and his stomach roiled. The lights flickered on and someone leaned closely into him, stubble rough against his neck and warm lips brushing his ear.

"Hey, cutie," a gravelly voice murmured into his ear, and an unfamiliar hand gave his ass a firm squeeze, followed by a sharp slap. "What do you say, huh? You got time?"

Deimos looked to Cain out of the corner of his eye, skin flushed pink with shame, _hating_ that Cain was here to see this. Cain looked down at him with narrowed eyes, jaw clenched and a muscle twitching in his cheek, though he said nothing. Disappointed, Deimos sank an elbow into the unfamiliar fighter's stomach and was rewarded with several rowdy laughs.

“Think this one needs a lesson, don’t you?” More laughter. “Uptight little _bitch_ …”

Arms grabbed him from behind, hauling him backwards, and all of a sudden there were fingers on his chin and in his hair, strong hands on his ass again, grabbing and squeezing and _pulling_ at him.

Deimos struggled against them and looked to Cain once more, casting him a wide-eyed and panicked look, and not even because he was afraid of what the other fighters would do to him. There was a blade up his sleeve and he knew how to use it—he was sure he could take them all down if it came to that.

No. He was terrified Cain would step out of the lift now and leave him here alone, uncaring whether or not Deimos could even defend himself, because that would prove once and for all that Cain didn't give a fuck about him and never would. 

He could see the thoughts roll across Cain's face—Cain trying to decide whether it was worth the effort to step in and do something, or if it was easier to just leave Deimos behind and let the other fighters have him. He preferred not to get involved in other people's shit; hated it when others interfered with his. But Deimos had thought maybe Cain would consider Deimos his business enough to not want to see him get hurt.

One of the fighters—huge and tall and reeking of sweat—grabbed Deimos’ hips and pulled him roughly back against his crotch, laughing while he ground his cock into the small of Deimos’ back. Deimos almost gave up then and let them all have him. No point struggling if Cain was just going to stand there and watch, then turn his back and leave them all to it. If that was how it was going to be then Deimos wanted to be hurt—so badly he could forget all about the bland look on Cain’s face, because that look made him want to die.

Cain moved so fast Deimos didn’t realize what was happening at first. Deimos was abruptly released, staggering a little before finding his balance again, hand catching at the wall. When he looked up Cain had the fighter who’d grabbed him up against the wall of the lift, good arm pressed to the other fighter’s windpipe. “You keep your fucking hands off of him. This one’s mine, you got it?” he snarled, teeth bared.

There was a low murmuring—something about Encke and not getting caught fighting again—before the large fighter choked out, “Alright! Alright! Fuck!” and Cain let him go. The tall and burly fighter glared daggers at Cain, fists clenched at his sides, but then the lift jerked to a halt, doors sliding open, and Cain backed off.

He grabbed Deimos by the back of the jacket and shoved him out of the lift, sending him stumbling out into the hallway. “More fucking trouble than you’re worth,” he muttered as the lift doors closed behind them and they found themselves alone. “ _Move_ it,” he added in a growl, hand on Deimos’ back and as he pushed him down the hallway and towards Deimos’ room.

Deimos keyed open the door and Cain shoved him inside, closing and locking it behind them. He sat down on the edge of Deimos’ bed, wincing, arm still cradled to his chest, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Fix it,” he demanded through clenched teeth, and Deimos scrambled to find the first-aid kit.

He sat down next to Cain on the mattress, still giddy and shaking, and wrapped Cain’s bad arm up in tight bandages. He didn't think it was broken, just sprained, and there was little swelling. Cain smoked and looked surly while Deimos worked, and Deimos took the opportunity to study Cain up-close while he was shirtless and distracted.

Deimos let out a shaky sigh as he stared at him. Cain was still beautiful and unreachable as ever, dark and lithe and strong and _everything_ Deimos had ever thought he wanted. He ached to brush the hair out of Cain’s eyes, touch fingers to his lips, trace the line of his jaw and kiss his skin, feel Cain’s cock moving in and out of him, body heavy over his. He frowned when he noticed the red nail-marks on Cain’s shoulders—knew Cain's little navigator must have given him those scratches during sex—but he wanted to taste them anyway, wanted to map every inch of Cain with his lips.

Cain looked deep in thought as Deimos finished up with the bandages, unaware of Deimos' thoughts as he dragged heavily on his cigarette. “We’ve got a problem now.”

“What is it?” Deimos whispered, tentatively reaching for Cain’s forearm.

Cain hissed and slapped his hand away. “You, _you’re_ the fucking problem, you’re always letting yourself get grabbed like that. What the hell is wrong with you? You like it, do you?”

Deimos shook his head. “No, I…"

“Tch. Maybe if you didn’t look like such a little slut then it wouldn’t happen so much.”

Deimos opened and closed his mouth, stung and unsure what to say. He wasn’t sure what Cain meant, but hated that he thought Deimos had ever wanted any of it—had ever asked for it. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said quietly.

“Yeah you do,” Cain grumbled, scratching at his bruised cheek and taking another drag on his cigarette. “Everyone sees the way you look at me,” he added, exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling. “Like you want to bend over for me all fucking day long. What do you _think_ they’re gonna think of you, huh? That if you'll take it from me you'll take it from anyone, that's what.”

“No. You,” Deimos whispered. “Just you.”

“What?”

“I only want to do that for you. Not them.”

“Tch. What fucking difference does it make. We’re all the same, Deimos.” Cain angrily stubbed out his cigarette in a plastic cup and set it down by his feet, Deimos watching him sadly.

“You want everyone thinking you’re mine?” Cain snapped suddenly, causing Deimos to jump. “Well start fucking acting like it. Get me a drink,” he growled before Deimos could answer him.

“How?”

“How _what_? How do you make a drink? _Fuck_ you’re useless, Deimos.” Cain made to get up, but Deimos’ hand on his bad arm stopped him.

“No, I meant… I meant how am I supposed to act like I’m yours?”

Cain hissed and pushed Deimos’ hand away from him. He hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking more frustrated, annoyed and tired than Deimos had ever seen him. "You do what I say, when I say it," Cain answered in a low and dangerous voice. "You don't ask questions. You don't lie to me. You look at me or at the fucking wall, no one else. You don't touch anyone else, and you don't let anyone touch you. You got it?"

Deimos nodded quickly. 

"Good, because if you fuck up you're on your own again. Now get me a drink."

All Deimos could find was half a bottle of rum under the bathroom sink, the glass bottle smudged and dusty. He offered it to Cain, who sneered at him but snatched it from his hand, unscrewing the cap and drinking almost half the contents in one go.

When he was done he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and replaced the lid, tossing the bottle to the end of the mattress. He looked up at Deimos, eyes a little glazed now, and leaned forward, bringing his hands to Deimos' hips and dragging his body into him, so that his lips were close to Deimos' chest.

Deimos shook when Cain touched him, tried to breathe without letting out a whimper. He bit down on his lip, cheeks throbbing with heat, and laid a light hand on Cain's shoulder, surprised when Cain didn't immediately slap it away.

"So you got time for me or what?" Cain asked with a smirk, looking up at Deimos with heavily-lidded eyes. He was so cocky, knew Deimos wanted him desperately and would never refuse him. 

Deimos gave a jerky nod. "A-Always have time for you," he stammered, and swallowed hard. He was trembling so hard he couldn't stop it, Cain's hands hot and firm on his hips. He was sure if Cain wasn't holding him there he'd fall to his knees.

"That's half your fucking problem," Cain muttered, though he drew his hand back and smacked Deimos, hard, on the ass.

Deimos jumped and Cain brought his hands back to Deimos' hips, fingers pressing deeply into his flesh. Deimos looked down at him hopefully.

"We're only doing this once," Cain told him, and Deimos' heart skipped a beat.

"Once?" he whispered brightly.

"Yeah. _Fucking_ ," Cain clarified, looking at Deimos now as if he was stupid. "Once. I don't have time for this shit. Just get on the bed and get your clothes off if you want it so fucking bad." He grabbed Deimos by the hips and threw him sideways onto the mattress, wincing as he did so.

Deimos had never undressed so quickly in his life, wanted to get as far as he could before Cain went and changed his mind on him. He was naked in seconds, laid bare on the mattress and shaking under Cain's scrutinizing gaze. Cain studied him carefully, as if he'd never seen him before, an odd look on his face as he laid down next to Deimos, propped up on his elbow, and ran a rough and calloused palm over Deimos' bare thigh. He drew his hand away and abruptly slapped a hand down on Deimos' knee, roughly forcing his legs open. He leaned over him, skin hot and smelling like cheap rum, and stroked the sensitive skin of Deimos' inner-thigh with his thumb, pointedly ignoring Deimos' cock. 

"You're so skinny," Cain remarked, smoothing a palm over Deimos' ribs now, and Deimos blushed.

Cain looked down at him with a smirk and brought a hand to Deimos' hip, squeezing his flesh and pushing him over onto his stomach. Deimos was almost disappointed—his lips were wet and parted, and he'd been waiting, hoping, for Cain to lean down and kiss him. But this was good enough, and he'd never really cared for foreplay. 

He turned his face to one side and pushed his ass into Cain's hands, biting his tongue to keep from whining like a bitch. He wasn't sure Cain would like that. 

"You done this before?" Cain asked. 

Deimos shook his head. "No..." It was a lie, but Deimos thought it a necessary one. He knew Cain would only make a nasty remark if he knew about all the others.

"Tch. Thought I was done fucking whiny little virgins," Cain muttered. Deimos wasn't sure, but underneath the snarky words he thought Cain sounded pleased.

He'd been right, then. Cain _did_ prefer virgins; enjoyed being the first to touch what he considered his. Deimos trembled harder when he thought about Cain considering Deimos his property now, too.

Cain kneeled behind him and grabbed at his ass, rough and hard and without any finesse, kneading and spreading him open. He jumped, skittish when Cain's thumb stroked his entrance, and buried his face in the mattress to keep from making a noise.

"You know this is gonna hurt, right?"

Deimos nodded, fingers twisted in the sheets.

"If you're gonna cry, do it later. I'm not going to fuck you if you're just gonna bitch at me about how much it hurts, you got it?"

Deimos turned his face to the side again, breathed deeply, and forced out, "I... I won't cry, Cain, I promise."

"Want it too bad, huh?"

Deimos nodded, too turned on and desperate to be ashamed of himself, and Cain sniggered at him. "Good boy." He gave Deimos' ass another sharp slap, and when his fingers returned they were warm and wet.

Cain pressed one into him first, breath hitching a little as he pushed it in and out, and Deimos wriggled his hips and pushed back against him, one hand wrapped around his cock, though he forced himself not to stroke it just yet. He didn't want to come until Cain was coming, hard and deep inside of him.

He hissed when Cain pressed another finger into him and roughly worked them in and out, rocking back against Cain's fingers and desperate for more, Cain's hold on his hip so firm Deimos was sure it'd leave bruises.

He slipped and let out a tiny moan when Cain pulled his fingers out and spread Deimos open with his thumbs instead, and Cain tusked at him disapprovingly, letting out an amused chuckle. "I knew you'd be a little whore in bed," he murmured, voice husky, and Deimos got even harder at the idea of Cain thinking about this before now, thinking about _them_ , just like Deimos had done every day for months.

"Cain..." Deimos begged, twisting the sheets around his fingers, and in a moment Cain's fingers were gone, leaving Deimos feeling pleasantly sore, stretched and buzzed and sticky.

He heard Cain's zipper being drawn and his shoulders tensed, mouth dry with anticipation. He was still reeling with disbelief that he was finally being given what he wanted; that Cain had publicly claimed him as _his_ , even if Deimos wasn't the only one, even if he had to share Cain with Cain's navigator. He didn't care about any of that, as long as he belonged to Cain, too. 

He sank his teeth into his lip, tasting blood when Cain started to push into him, careful at first as he eased the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle. Deimos didn't want careful, wanted Cain to slam into him and make him _feel_ it, wanted to be feeling this for days _._

He pushed back against Cain's cock to let him know he could take all of it; that he _needed_ to take all of it. Cain leaned forward and wrapped a hand around the back of Deimos' neck, holding him down against the mattress, slowly easing his way in until it really did hurt and Deimos was panting and wincing and uncomfortably full.

His blood pounded in his ears as Cain stopped moving, face throbbing hotly as he focused on the sensation of Cain's hard cock inside him. His fingers twitched around his own cock and he knew he could make himself come just like this, with feeling Cain hot and hard inside of him. But he stilled his hand, needing to draw this out for as long as possible—if they were only doing this once, he needed to make it last as long as he could.

Breathing carefully through his nose, he forced himself to relax his body, and almost as soon as he did Cain started to move again, slowly pulling out before pressing back in, painfully slowly again. Deimos thought he knew why—because Cain mistakenly believed he was a virgin and was actually worried about hurting him. 

"You can hurt me, Cain," Deimos whispered then, so quietly he was unsure Cain would even hear him. "Please. It's alright, I want it."

Cain paused again, grunting before he pulled all the way out, leaving Deimos cold and sore and empty. Cain muttered something that sounded like, "So fucked up," before his hands were on Deimos' hips again, rolling him over. Deimos landed on his back with a thud, legs spread and staring up at Cain as Cain settled between them.

"You want to get hurt, huh?" Cain asked him, grabbing one of Deimos' legs and pushing his knee into his chest. 

Deimos curled a hand around Cain's arm and nodded, lip caught between his teeth. "If we're only doing this once then I want to feel it."

"Tch." Cain snorted at this, grip tight around the back of Deimos' knee. He leaned over him, grabbing a fistful of his hair, skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, and growled, "I'll make you fucking feel it."

He slid back in without a trace of his previous gentleness, and Deimos gasped and threw his head back, scratching at Cain's arm as Cain started fucking into him in earnest, so rough the bed began to creak. Cain's fingers in his hair were vicious, and Deimos wasn't anywhere close to wet enough to make this anything other than painful, but he'd never felt so close to perfect as he did under Cain. 

Cain's fingers tightened in Deimos' hair, his teeth clenched and eyes tightly shut. Deimos allowed himself to curl a hand around his cock then, knowing Cain was close. Cain opened his eyes and watched Deimos stroke himself off, the movements of his hips growing jerky and erratic. Deimos groaned when Cain pulled at his hair, so savagely Deimos thought he might tear it out, and snarled, cock pulsing as he came inside him. Deimos grabbed Cain by the back of the neck and finally let go, coming with a few half-hearted strokes of his cock, fingernails digging into Cain's skin.

He fell back against the mattress when they were done, sore and wet and sticky, nothing but their combined panting to fill the silence. Deimos closed his eyes; he could feel Cain watching him, but couldn't force himself to watch Cain leave. 

"You're bleeding," Cain said finally, and Deimos lowered his legs back to the mattress, suddenly ashamed to have Cain staring at him, especially while he was bleeding and leaking Cain's come. 

The mattress sank as Cain leaned over him, hands on either side of Deimos' head, Cain's chest hot against his. "You don't like to kiss, huh?" Cain asked.

Deimos opened one eye, heart hammering now, and found Cain leaning over him, lips close to his. Wary of rejection, Deimos put a hand to Cain's cheek, looking past Cain and over his shoulder, unable to look him square in the eye. Cain leaned down to press their lips together, his kiss surprisingly gentle after what they'd just done.

Deimos parted his lips, gently stroking the side of Cain's face with unsteady fingers, and Cain kissed him again, breath still fast and uneven. He pulled away after a third kiss and muttered, "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow, but remember what we talked about."

Deimos nodded, already empty as Cain climbed off of him and got to his feet, dressing in silence while Deimos watched and leaving without saying another word. 

 


End file.
